


When Gingerbread Houses Lead You Home

by blueboxesandtrafficcones



Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2019 [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (Clara's the niece), Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Gingerbread Houses, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones
Summary: The gingerbread house baking class Rose’s bakery hosts leads her to something far sweeter than the traditional treat - like a handsome stranger and his adorable niece.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560049
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67
Collections: 31 Days of Ficmas 2019





	When Gingerbread Houses Lead You Home

Smoothing her apron, Rose took a moment to settle her breath. She had a kitchen full of paying students wanting to learn the art and magic of making gingerbread houses, and as much as she enjoyed the class once she was leading it, it wreaked havoc on her nerves just before it started every time, even though she’d hosted it a dozen or so times now.

 _Remember, they’re paying for the experience_ , she psyched herself up. _Having fun is more important than perfection, but it still has to look- and taste- good._

Nodding firmly she pushed open the swinging doors into her bakery’s kitchen, where instead of her small baking staff six strangers stood arranged around three sides of the main worktop, waiting for her. The room fell silent as she entered, and she took her place along the free edge. “Good evening, and welcome to Bad Wolf Bakery,” she started, pressing her palms against her thighs so no one could see them shaking. “I’m Rose Tyler, I’m the proprietor of this shop, and I’m so glad you’ve joined me this evening. I, along with my assistants Amy and Donna,” she gestured towards the women standing off to the side, who waved to the group, “will be walking you through how to make a homemade gingerbread house that is both beautiful _and_ delicious. Now, if you’ll all please go to your assigned station, we’ll get started.”

* * *

Once she went over the first step she moved towards the tables. Three tables of two, they had previously arranged who would be helping which group. One, a man roughly Rose’s age and a little girl about nine, had self-professed when booking that they (he) were disasters in the kitchen, and would likely need supervision, so it had been easy to decide Rose would be their supervisor.

“Good evening, thanks for coming out,” she greeted the man, eyes flickering over him quickly in assessment. Young, he had a boyish charm about him, though he was dressed like a seventy-year-old math professor, complete with bowtie. “I’m Rose.”

“I’m Clara,” the little girl piped up, grinning brightly. “This is my Uncle John.”

“Very nice to meet you, Clara and Uncle John,” she teased, shaking the little girl’s hand. “I hear this was your idea.”

Clara nodded seriously, dark hair swinging with the movement. “We tried making it at home a couple times, but it did _not_ go well.”

“Thanks, kid,” the man, John, huffed, rolling his eyes and ruffling her hair. “I mean, it’s _true_ , but still.”

Rose fought back a laugh. “Well, it’s perfectly fine. We have people of all skill levels come through, and I’ve yet to have an unsalvageable house at the end. Clara, do you know the most important ingredient in any baking endeavor?”

“Flour?” the little guessed innocently. “Cause we forgot it once, and the cookies were super yucky.”

“Well, yes, flour’s important,” Rose acknowledged, grinning when John hung his head in mock shame, “but that’s not what I meant. I was thinking of _love_. If you make it with love, you’ll be fine. Deal?”

“Deal,” Clara nodded decisively. “Where do we start?”

* * *

With the exception of a few minutes at the start of every step at the front explaining, Rose spent the majority of the two hours with John and Clara, helping them make it properly. It was almost immediately clear why their previous attempts had failed; while Clara had the enthusiasm and attention to detail, John tending to follow the instructions as he read them, not waiting until the end of the step to see the full picture. More than once she had to catch him before he botched it, each time finding a different kind way to stop him.

Their fingers brushed occasionally as she showed them what to do, and every single time, Rose felt a spark tingle straight down her spine. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him; kind brown eyes, full lips, a childlike enthusiasm. Not even his missing eyebrows (a cooking mishap, Clara had kindly whispered at top volume) could detract from his overall appearance, and she was starting to wonder if it would be totally out of line to call him tomorrow and ask him to dinner.

Feeling obligated to check on her other guests she visited the other two stations, complimenting them on a job well done and making a few moments small talk, making sure they felt welcomed and special.

All the while, though, her mind, and occasionally her eyes, were focused on the man at the far station with the floppy hair.

_I could spend hours running my fingers through that hair._

“Uh, Rose?” Donna called from near the front, where she and Amy were huddled away from the students, and with a polite smile she excused herself to join them.

“What’s up?”

Amy lowered her voice, watching over her shoulder. “So, what’s the story there?”

Rose stared blankly at the two expectant faces, unsure of what they meant. “Huh?”

“What’s his deal?” Donna asked, matching Amy’s low tone. “Is that his daughter? Is he married? Single? What?”

“Um…” Rose blushed, tucking her hair back behind her ears. “She’s his niece, though I got the impression that she’s staying with him, at least for now. He’s not wearing a ring, so I doubt he’s married. Otherwise, I don’t know, why? Are you interested?”

She couldn’t help the way her stomach dropped at the thought, and it must have shown on her face because her employees snickered.

“Only in getting you a bloke,” Amy teased. “And he’s not bad, I will admit.”

Rose arched an eyebrow. “And how’s that wedding planning coming?”

“The point is,” Donna drew her attention back to her, “you should do something.”

“What?”

“Get his number,” Amy suggested, before brightening. “Oooh, I know! Give him your card, say you’d be _happy_ to give him private lessons.”

“Amy!”

“Uh, Rose, I think we’re in trouble,” Clara called across the room, a mild note of panic in her voice.

Rose sighed, pasting on a smile as she turned and hurried back to them. “What’s going on, sweetie?”

It was obvious at first glance; the icing was too runny, dripping down the sides unattractively.

“Okay, we can fix this. What you do is…”

* * *

Rose got to the bakery an hour early the next morning, thoroughly scrubbing down the kitchen surfaces and starting on the day’s baking.

All the while she struggled to tear her eyes away from the innocent-looking station across from her, where she’d worked with John and Clara. She could almost see them, giggling away as they made their first successful gingerbread house, could practically feel little Clara’s arms around her waist from the spontaneous hug the girl had given her as they were leaving.

 _I should’ve said something_ , she lamented, annoyed with herself for letting John go without asking him to dinner, or giving him her number. _Anything._ Kneading the dough for sticky buns, she remembered how he’d shyly praised the treat on the way out, told her how someone in his lab had brought them in and he’d been so impressed he’d looked her up.

_This is going to be a long day._

* * *

Though she normally preferred to be working the register, greeting each customer with a bright smile and taking their order, by ten in the morning she had to sequester herself in the kitchen. Every chime of the bell over the door had her heart leaping, wishing and hoping and _praying_ that it was John, being brave and taking the leap that had her so scared.

“Rose,” Donna called, “we need you.”

“Be right there!” Sliding the rack into the fridge to chill, she wiped her hands on a rag and hurried out to the front. “What’s up?”

“Can you take the line?”

She did, letting Donna go on break, not thinking anything of the slightly odd request- until she looked up to help the third customer and saw John staring back at her, wide-eyed.

“Oh! Hello,” she said, breathlessly, only understanding why Donna had tagged her in when giggles emanated from either side, where Amy was making drinks and Donna plating food. “Welcome- thanks for coming back.”

“Uh, yeah,” he blushed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I couldn’t resist, I spent all night thinking about you- your sticky buns, I mean.” His eyes widened further in somewhat horror. “Actual sticky buns! The kind with the icing, not- I mean-”

She got the gist when his gaze darted down to her breasts, and she had to fight back a nervous giggle. “Thanks?”

They stared at each other for an awkward moment, until the customer behind John sighed loudly.

“Right! Um, what can I get for you?”

“What?” He appeared totally thrown by the question, and her heart leapt at the idea that he’d come only to see her. “Oh… Half a dozen buns, I suppose, and four coffees?”

Rose rung him up quickly, impulsively giving him ten percent off. Despite the shy awkwardness and fumbling, the best conversation they could manage was perfunctory pleasantries, and as soon as she could she escaped back to her office, where both redheads found her a few minutes later.

“I’m such an idiot,” she moaned, “I let him go. Again!”

“Oh, Rose, it’s okay,” Donna said soothingly, as the women sank into the chairs across from her. “Really.”

Raising her head she pouted at them. “D’you really think so?”

“Yes,” Amy said firmly.

“How do you know?”

Donna smiled kindly. “Because if it’s mean to be, the universe will find a way.”

Amy snorted. “Plus, I wrote your name and mobile number on one of the cups and made sure he knew that was his.”

“You did _what_?” Rose gasped, torn between being angry and thrilled. “Amy!”

Her mobile buzzed on the desk in front of her then, and they all stared at it for several seconds.

“Well see what it says!”

Rose picked it up, almost dropping it twice in her nervousness. Opening the message from an unknown number, she read out, “Hi, it’s John, I think your barista gave me your number? At least, I hope this is Rose. If not, sorry, I’m not interested. Sorry. But if this is Rose, would you maybe like to have dinner with me sometime? Or lunch? Coffee? Anything? I’d really like to see you again. But only if you’re Rose. Sorry. Thanks.”

“Awww,” Donna cooed, “so sweet! He’s clearly already a goner for you.”

“Why isn’t he interested?” Amy wanted to know, trying to grab the mobile to see for herself. “I mean, I get he likes you, but not at all? I’m hot! I’m a _model_ for crying out loud!”

Rose slid the device into her pocket, giving the younger girl a stern look. “You’re engaged to a wonderful guy,” she reminded her, “and as for being a model, someday, but... you had one gig.”

The bell on the counter dinged, indicating a customer was waiting, and both of her employees reluctantly stood.

“This isn’t over,” Donna warned, “I’ll be damned if you don’t go on that date.”

“You’ll be fired if you don’t get that customer,” Rose retorted with little heat. “Now, get.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the women smirked and snapped a salute in unison, scurrying out of the office to avoid the paperwork Rose threw in their direction.

 _I ought to fire them both for interfering_ , she grumbled to herself, pulling out her mobile and reading the message again.

Hesitating, she typed out six different versions of a response until she settled on:

_This is Rose. I’d love to have dinner. When?_

He only took moments to reply; she’d barely set it down before it buzzed again.

_Tomorrow night? Seven o’clock?_

Rose smiled. _Sounds perfect!_

And it was.


End file.
